Monday, December 27, 2010

Snow Job

POTUS is not independent. FLOTUS thinks she is.

I worked for a service-based company for many years. Time and time again I refused promotion. Promotion meant a desk, uncompensated overtime, scheduling and personnel issues. It meant taking irate telephone calls from customers. It meant being the man in the middle, squeezed from both ends - like toothpaste.

POTUS thought he’d be in charge. Instead, he finds himself squeezed. FLOTUS cannot understand why her articulate husband is s such a wimp. “Do it,” she says. “Bleed them dry. Make them give it back.” POTUS knows it’s not that easy. He hesitates, postpones. Among all the twists and turns, he’s lost sight of the revolution.

FLOTUS has no qualms, only resentment. She resents America, its institutions, its predominance. She resents her husband for not getting it done.

POTUS doesn’t like his job. He doesn’t like to face his wife empty-handed. Cigarettes are easier. They burn down and you light another one. One way or another, eventually the job gets done. But it’s not pretty or spectacular. Difficult to script a martyr’s video on the basis of lung cancer.
I usually look on the prospect of snow in horror. But I always manage to get it done - one shovel full at a time. This time there were three of us: my son, my brother and me. It was a glorious morning's exercise. We actually had fun.

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